When It Comes To You |j.k

36: 吻

My eyes flutter open and the light that seeps in from the window fights for my sight. I lift my hand up to rub my eyelids. I blink once, then twice, and it slowly becomes more bearable to keep them open. I take the chance of this silence to look around me.

I raise my head, and there it was.

Heaven.

I see his big arm around my waist, his bare chest rising with his every breath with the sun kissing his skin. His free hand is resting on the back of my head, fingers tangled in my hair.

I smile as a wave of relief washes over me.

Last night wasn't a dream.

It was real.

And he's still next to me, he hasn't left, he hasn't gone anywhere, he hasn't abandoned me. He's sleeping with me in his arms, as if the changes over the last three years never took place. It's almost as if he never left. Almost.

It's heavenly, to wake up in his arms.

Yesterday was full of tears and words that carried three years worth of saudade. I hadn't really looked at him until now. In this peaceful silence as he sleeps no different than a baby, I glance up to admire his face.

It surprises me how much he's changed, and yet he's still able to be the same exact person in my eyes. He's changed so much, yet also not at all.

I don't remember his jawline being as prominent as it is now. His cheekbones fight for attention, and it seems that fatigue has drained him from the inside out. The stubs on his chin are small, but you can tell they've been uncared for for quite some time. But nevertheless, it draws you in and makes you stare.

It's something about his change from a boy to a man that has me in a frenzy. The lines to his face have become sharper and more refined, like a piece of art. Something to admire, to nurture, and to love. I find myself feeling a type of attraction towards him that is different from what I felt back in high school.

His shoulders have become much broader too and seemed to have doubled in thickness.

I touch his cheek with my palm and hold his face in my hand, to feel every curve, every bump, every little bit of him. His eyes move just the slightest and I watch silently as he slowly stirs awake.

He looks at me and I smile.

And those eyes. So delicately gorgeous and alluring.

He shuts them again and cranks his neck, face now towards the ceiling. His hand leaves my hair and they go up to massage his temple.

Only now do I realize that he is most possibly hungover at the moment. I sit up, holding the blanket to cover my chest, "Does your head hurt?"

I use my free hand to reach over and groom his hair away from his face. He nods subtly.

"Morning." He croaks out, eyes closed and squeezed together as he puts on a pained expression.

I sit still, watching as he slowly let go of his head and opens his eyes to look at me. The pained expression fades and returns as a small smile, and his faint dimples come to view.

"Did you remember?"

He doesn't reply and I start to worry. I start to worry that he's already forgotten about all the words we've said to each other last night, the kisses he left on my skin, or the heat we had brought out of each other. He can't forget. He just can't. I'd shatter into pieces.